The rain set early in to-night:
The sullen wind was soon awake—
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
and did its worst to vex the lake:
I listened, with heart fit to break,
When glided in Porphyria: straight
She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate
Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;
Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,
And laid her soiled gloves by; untied
Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
And, last, she sat down by my side
And called me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
And made her smooth white shoulder bare,
And all her yellow hair displaced,
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there
And spread o'er all her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me—she
Too...